


cordite

by powerfulsound



Series: whisper song [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Dom Tim, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Sub Jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-06 11:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerfulsound/pseuds/powerfulsound
Summary: It’s a courtship of a sort.+“Tell me, Jason,” Tim practically purrs. “What song does a bluejay sing?”





	1. a word is one wing of silence

Jason didn’t ask for it as much as he alluded, dropping hints like breadcrumbs that a sharp-eyed and clever red robin picked up.

 

It feels like squander, squandering on love when what they have is more than enough, when Jason is already unworthy, because he is many things but a good man, and lovely Tim deserves nothing less than the best of their ugly world. 

 

Instead of shying away, one day as Jason tilts his head back, letting Tim pet the scar along his throat, tracing it with his mouth, Tim reveals his hand. There’s desire, smouldering and thick as molasses in the air. Tim slowly maps it with soft lips and the occasional touch of his tongue, before wrapping a hand around the whole column of his throat.

 

“I think,” Tim murmurs. “I would like to collar you.”

 

Jason jerks, but Tim’s grip is firm. Tim has long lashes, sweeping and languorous, framed around the blue gold of impending twilight. He smiles, tender and indulgent, but with a hungry and knowing edge to it that has Jason’s breath catching. “And I think, you would like me to.”

 

Jason whines, lust stupid. Laughing, Tim untangles himself from Jason. “Okay, lay it on me. What do you like?”

 

Jason shrugs, and tries to reach for Tim again, only to be held away by a hand. “No, no, mister dog-car brain, we should focus on this.”

 

“Why dog?” Grousing, Jason curls his fingers back along the hickey that Tim definitely left on him.

 

“Dog.” Tim grins, bright like the vibrant sheen of feathers as he gestures at Jason, before sweeping a hand over his body. “Meet Car. You see, you chase.”

 

“Why you-“ Easily, Tim flips over the couch, and yelps in delight as Jason crashes into his body with a mock growl, wrapping his legs around Jason’s waist. They tussle like wolf pups at play, before Tim finally allows him to pin him down. Affectionately, he rubs their cheeks together. 

 

“Come on Jay, tell me what you like and what I have to work with.”

 

Jason cannot even think when Tim’s pressed all up against him like this, but he blurts out what comes to mind. 

 

“.. No blunt impact.”

 

The mood changes, somber and suddenly suffocating. Tim swallows then blinks, reaching out to hold Jason’s face. “Okay.” 

 

They pause for a moment, where Jason recovers, his forehead pressed against Tim’s chest to anchor himself with Tim’s heartbeat.

 

“Is bondage okay?” There’s a rough sound in Tim’s voice, like a quaver, and his fingers spasm for a moment, as though betraying his thoughts. Jason fights the fissure of illogical fear at the thought of being trapped, of doing nothing but waiting, the smell of cheap cosmetics-

 

“Stay with me Jay.” Tim murmurs, voice steady.

 

Tim was there, the second time. He had heard his breathing through the helmet, a controlled steady rhythm that eased the panic in his chest.

 

“…” Jason blinks, then turns his palm over, for Tim to interlace their fingers. Long and delicate, pianist’s hands, but clever enough to disarm bombs and destroy empires, callouses and burns hidden on the underside. “No knots that I can’t get out of.” 

 

Tim’s mouth, tilts to a side, bright with promise. “We’ll practice.” 

 

 

* * *

 

It’s a courtship of a sort. Tim plans everything with meticulousness, careful details written down on his chicken scrawl of a code and triple backed up on the computer. He sets the stage, clears their schedule, woos Jason with gifts of silken ropes and toys and opulent baubles, and a smile all red and wet with promise. 

 

“Do you need me to do anything?” Jason asks once, and Tim merely hooks a finger beneath his chin to tilt his head downwards.

 

“Nope,” he says, popping his P the way Jason does, his eyes mischievous. “But I won’t mind a kiss.”

 

“Cheeky,” Jason says, but obliges with a press of his lips against Tim’s forehead. 

 

“I don’t need this you know,” Jason says after a while of holding Tim, swaying a little side to side. “This.. courting thing.” He says, gesturing at the table, where Tim has bought him a cashmere hoodie, so luxurious looking and meticulously packaged that it made Jason a bit guilty looking at it, the crepe paper that held it in place carefully folded and placed back in the pinstriped box.

 

Tim smiles, private and sweet. “You don’t, but I like it.”

 

“Yeah?” Jason says, his voice suddenly hoarse, knees a little weak.

 

Carefully, Tim presses a thumb to Jason’s lower lip, merely testing the give. “You deserve to be courted, Jason. Wooed. And I like spoiling you. Seeing you in the clothes I picked out, wearing what I want you to wear, dressing you up for my pleasure _._ ”

 

“Is this a sugar daddy thing or some shit like that?”

 

“Hmm,” Tim flutters his lashes, flirtatiously until Jason has no choice but to laugh and let him go, dragging his cup over. 

 

Tim hugs him from the back, and sinks in his sharp little teeth in the curve of Jason’s shoulder. Jason braces himself on the counter, still laughing. “Timmy, you’re a menace.”

 

“To answer your question,” Tim continues, in the same casual tone. “It’s a Jason Todd deserves nice things thing.” 

 

Heat blooms in Jason’s chest, like a hot drink, swallowed too fast, all searing warmth. 

 

It’s not that he doesn’t get nice things. He does live his second life vicariously. He knows how to spoil himself, with the sleek curves of a motorcycle or the clean lines of a gun, or even just good old-fashioned violence to heat the blood, but this-

 

This sheer indulgence for the lack of a word makes the street child in him that ducked their head away from the bookstore melt. He fights the urge to hide his smile, but Tim tiptoes to kiss the edge of Jason’s mouth once, then twice before releasing him. 

 

He turns back to see Tim go sprawling on the couch, loose-limbed as he pats his thigh. “Now baby, come here and give daddy some sugar,” Tim says, straight face and voice impersonal.

 

Jason snorts his tea up his nose and nearly chokes trying his best not to laugh. Tim tilts his head, considering but Jason knows him well enough to see the spark of amusement at the soft edge of his lip. “it doesn’t work for you?”

 

“Nah.” Jason has to pound on his chest to cough out that knot and shakes his head. “Too many Big B issues.”

 

“Fair enough,” Tim taps his mouth. “How about… Mister.” 

 

“Mister Drake?” Jason gives another snort, abandoning his drink to sit next to Tim, throwing an arm around him. “Fuck, babe, you are awful at this. What if you get a hard-on when someone in your office calls you that?”

 

The edge of Tim’s smile turns sharp, suddenly serious and Jason realises that Tim’s wanted Jason like this all along, has known what Jason might want, and teased him into it. “Then, my little Jaybird, what do you think of Master?”

 

Jason chokes. 

 

“It’ll be nice, won’t it?” Tim leans in close, and Jason can smell the expensive cologne that drives him absolutely out of his mind with lust when Tim leaves it on their sheets. “You can be my pet, my little jaybird, all pretty on your knees.”

 

“Tim.” Tim withdraws, but leaves a hand on Jason’s cheek for a long enough period of time that Jason reorients himself. “Fuck, Timmy. Give me some warning will you?”

 

“Sorry,” Tim says, remorseless. He leans against Jason’s chest, wriggling until Jason’s arm is placed just right before pinching his side. “Turn on the cartoon that Damian likes to watch, I caught like only an episode that day.” 

 

“Admit that you’re addicted Timbo.”

 

“I’m not.” He makes a little moue with his mouth. “But demon brat and Jon are on season 9 already and he’s been sauntering around the manor like he knows something I don’t and it’s been grating on my nerves.”

 

“Addicted. Just google it, it’s probably like your favourite character that dies.”

 

“No,” Tim says, petulant. “That’ll be cheating and he will know. Turn on the damn tv.”

 

* * *

Tim leaves the contract on the table. 

 

Jason checks what he likes with a dark red pen while Tim makes a token effort to heat their dinner in the microwave. 

 

At first, when Tim asked for a contract, legally binding that he can be persecuted if he hurts Jason beyond Jason’s consent be it physically or psychologically, Jason had wanted to laugh bitterly. No one has ever cared -

 

But Tim insisted, with his stubborn mouth and far too stubborn chin jutting out and Jason knew then that no matter how he fights it’ll be useless-

 

Barbie will be keeping it. 

 

Dick, as Tim said is a no go, because their caring elder brother would have asked too many questions, and anything kept with him meant the demon brat would get his claws on it. Even though they’ve reached the level of fond animosity, Jason wasn’t sure if he wanted to scar  Damian with Tim’s Avenir 75%K Gray printed  “Anal Plugs less than 5 inches in diameter” or god forbid “Blood Play below a pint of blood”. 

 

But yeah.

 

Tim’s close enough that Jason can reach out to him if he wants. Jason checks them all, the careful notations that Tim have made and left a space for Jason to leave any comments.

 

The blank remains there, a straight line. Chewing on the pen, Jason stares at it until it blurs. 

 

He has thought about it, a safe word, but the act of writing it down seems weak, as though he doesn’t trust Tim enough, as though he needed something to get him out. Before he can hesitate further, he scribbles it, the P overly emphasised. 

 

Flipping to the next page, he realises that Tim has written down one as well. He smiles a little as he sees it, and admires the way they are both inconspicuous enough that they can be said in normal conversation if one of them tips too far. One the name for a currency and the other for a chemical.

 

He browses through the rest, and pleasure suffuses him as he rereads through the limits, where Tim has explicitly listed out non-negotiables, without even a single room for leeway.  A sort of hesitant joy takes flight in his chest, behind his heart.

 

“Timbers.” He says, and reaches out blindly for his boyfriend. Immediately, he gets a lap full of pointy elbows and expensive cologne. He presses open mouthed kisses to Tim’s neck, to the spot behind his ear that has never failed to elicit a sigh. “I’m a wreck most days and I don’t even know why you’re still here, but fuck, I can’t imagine a life without you.”

 

“ _If your feelings are still what they are last April,_ ” Tim whispers, turning in Jason’s arms to hold his face in his hands. “ _Tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged: but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever._ ”

 

 Jason pulls him in for the most filthy kiss. “Mister Darcy, your fucking mouth-“

 

After a moment, where Tim kissed him hard enough that Jason’s toes had curled, fucking his tongue into Jason’s mouth, he emerges. Primly dabs at his glistening mouth with the collar of Jason’s shirt. “That was definitely not what Elizabeth said, you uncultured cretin.”

 

Jason opens his mouth to answer.

 

The fire alarm goes off.

 

“ _Fuck, the microwave - not again Timmy!_ "


	2. fire has its cold half

 

Anticipation thrills up Jason’s spine, little effervescent bubbles of joy when the day comes. The day before had been a terrible game of waiting, where he felt so full of manic energy that Bizarro had commented, after which Artemis kicked him out. 

 

The date has long been written on the board, just a small scrawl that makes Jason’s heart skip fiercely every time he saw it, nestled in between equations and lines of poetry that Tim copied out of his books.  _I bring you with reverent hands_

 

There’s something laid out for him. 

 

Much to Tim’s unfettered delight, Jason has learned to sleep naked, to indulge in warm skin and smooth silk, all spread out on Tim’s satin sheets in a red so rich it pours like blood. So the intentional placement of the slip of lace masquerading as underwear makes Jason’s heart stutter. A shade of black, far more suited for slimmer hips. 

 

Jason has the very vivid memory of pulling it down with his teeth perhaps a few months past. 

 

Swallowing, his throat gone dry, Jason pulls it on. It strains to stay on, clinging to the sides of his hips and stretching dangerously; his half hard cock is tucked obscenely to a side. To be fair, it’s almost comical looking, and it’s the furthest from sexy, compared to how Tim had looked wearing it, but- 

 

This is what Tim wants, so Tim gets.

 

He pushes open the door and sees Tim lounging on the sofa that he carried up the stairs. A damn good sight in white, too long sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms. 

 

Instead of following his initial urge to striking a pose, Jason clears his throat instead. Tim looks up from the wine glass that he’s swirling. 

 

The slight tilt to his thin lips, all full of sultry appreciation has Jason crossing the room and falling to his knees before him. Something softens in Tim’s face, his eyes gentle and he leaves his cup on the coffee table (on a coaster too, because he knows how much Jason hates messes) and leans forward to press a kiss to Jason’s forehead. 

 

“Hello handsome,” He murmurs, his mouth ghosting over Jason’s skin. With Tim whispering praise this close, Jason feels a shiver run up his spine, all his hair standing on end. There’s a flopping feeling in his belly, like the best sort of electricity shooting down to his fingertips. “Are we going through with it?”

 

“Please,” Jason murmurs.

 

“Tell me your safe word.”

 

“Penny.”

 

“Good.” Tim smiles as Jason turns his face upwards in offering so that Tim can brush his lips against his mouth. “What is my safe word?”

 

Jason murmurs the answer against Tim’s mouth, lets Tim chase it until Jason has been kissed wordless.

 

“You ready to go down?”

 

Jason hums approvingly in response.

 

“Okay.” With it, Tim’s easy affection morphs, a ripple across his face. If anyone asks Jason, he would be hard-pressed to describe it. It’s a minute change, small to say the least. An arch of an eyebrow, the slight flattening of his mouth, the sharpening of his gaze, the blue drowning and devastating, that somehow signals to Jason - all pleasure would pale towards the ecstasy he can achieve by offering his trust and submission to the man before him. 

 

All empires will fall before him, crumble into dust, and Jason will go willingly before him - 

 

It’s the beat his heart skipped, double time, triple time. The hush before a fired gun and kisses that tastes like blood and the stink of cordite and gun oil on Tim’s skin where Jason has touched him-

 

Tim combs fingers through Jason’s hair. 

 

“Tell me, Jason,” Tim practically  _purrs_. “What song does a bluejay sing?” 

 

“The whisper song,” Jason replies, and _he feels it_. The edges of his world starting to blur as though wrapped in a haze. No place for shame, no place for embarrassment or guilt. Only a gift that is offered freely, and given in exchange. Tim doesn’t pause in his petting, soothing Jason’s hair back even as Jason hides his face against Tim’s thigh. 

 

“Jason,” Tim says, except it’s not his boyfriend now, but his dominant, the edge of his voice low in his chest. Jason gets wrapped up in the sound of his breathing, time his own to match it. Underneath his cheek is the comforting press of muscle. “Eyes up.”

 

Jason jerks, too fast, too eager to obey. Tim laughs and cups his chin, his regard heady. “Look at you Jaybird.” He says, approvingly. “Everyone would think I had to tame you, that you would be a brat, that I have to work for your submission, but look at you. So willing to submit to me, so sweet.”

 

“Master,” Jason whispers, chasing Tim’s thumb with his mouth. 

 

“I don’t need any of that do I?” Musing out loud, Tim strokes down Jason’s front, to his throat and back down. “You’re already so deep down, and I barely have to do anything.”

 

Jason closes his eyes, the better to feel the trail of heat of Tim’s fingers down. 

 

“You can take the pain, so there’s no fun in that. But what embarrasses you is being spoiled,” Tim continues, his touch now a bare glance off Jason’s skin. “You are afraid of indulgence, of being unworthy, of hearing how beautiful you are-”

 

“I’m not-“

 

“Jason.” Tim stops him with just his name, flinty enough that Jason shrinks.  “Good. Let this be your first lesson. I do not like being interrupted. You will answer when I ask a question, but I will not accept disobedience.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Jason offers up, and remembers to add “Master.” As a result, he’s rewarded by Tim returning his touch along his throat, tracing the scar that Batman left. 

 

“You’re learning.” The pride in Tim’s voice suffuses Jason with a warm pleasure and he shivers. “I’ll let it slide for now, but the next time, I will punish you, my pet. Am I clear?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Good.” Tim withdraw his hand. “Put yourself on display for me. Hands behind your back and spread your legs. I want to look at you.” 

 

Helpless to do anything but obey, Jason does as he’s told, keeping his gaze down on the pale muscular curve of Tim’s legs, one crossed over the other. He feels himself blush with his whole body - Jason’s not shy, far from it, but somehow, there’s something about put on display like this. 

 

But more than that, it's the languorous drag of Tim’s gaze over his body, assessing, with a pleased smile, that makes his heart race.

 

“I’ll save the rope for next time.” Tim comments. Getting up from his seat, he circles around Jason with the fluid grace that comes only when he’s Red Robin, when he has that predatory element revealed. Then, he drags his foot up along the side of Jason’s thigh. Achingly close to between his legs where his cock is straining free from Tim’s too small underwear. “Gorgeous.” 

 

His toe brushes past Jason’s cock, and Jason shivers and nearly breaks his own hands with how tight he has them clenched. There’s a satisfied gleam in Tim’s eyes, and he draws his foot up higher until it teases past Jason’s lips and pauses. Reverently, Jason kisses it. Like this, the white shirt has ridden up, and Jason can see how hard Tim is and fuck if that doesn’t do it for him - his master is hard because of his submission-

 

“Mmn. You’re doing so well.” Tim brings his glass over, the red liquid swirling, before resuming the prior position. “ I’ll reward that.” 

 

Anticipation, the bright glint of sunlight off a robin’s feathers, sits in his lower belly in a tight clench.

 

Tim smiles, and he pours the wine down his leg, letting it trickle into Jason’s mouth. Despite Jason’s best efforts, rivulets of it are still wasted, flowing across his hypersensitive skin.  

 

“Lick me clean.”

 

Jason strains, his hands holding onto each other to prevent himself from reaching and touching. He hasn’t been given permission to touch. So he chases the wine with his mouth, soft noises of appreciation escaping him because what he’s allowed to do is lick his master, worship him with his tongue and lips. 

 

The wine is smooth and potent on his tongue, but its sweetness is no match for the salt of Tim’s skin. He follows it higher up with his tongue, until he’s nosing against Tim’s erection, inhaling the scent of it. Trails reverent kisses across it, asking for permission. 

 

Tim taps fingers against Jason’s cheek, drawing his attention back. “Not today.” Jason wants to give a whine of frustration, but at Tim’s firm grip on his chin, he quietens instead. “Open your mouth.” 

 

Jason does as he’s told. Tim drinks from his cup, and then-

 

With a mouth full of wine, he kisses Jason. Except it’s not just a kiss, more of a filthy fuck with his tongue and sharp teeth. Jason just sighs and takes it, opens up to him, surges upwards as Tim holds him in place with his clever hands, desperate and lightheaded. 

 

“Easy,” Tim says, lips stained red and swollen. He repeats himself again and admires Jason, spends a moment just gentling Jason like one would a favoured pet. 

 

Despite the nonchalance of his actions, tension throbs between them, palpable as the heat from a summer’s sun. 

 

After a moment, he pushes Jason back. Until Jason is displayed on his elbows and knees, cock so hard it’s pressed against his belly. Jason rolls his weight across his shoulders, trying to ease the strain when his hands are still clasped together, but Tim stops him with a foot.

 

“What a sight you are.” Tim continues. “Hold your position for me, my pet.”

 

He presses the arch of his foot to Jason’s cock.

 

Jason makes an animalistic whine, bucking upwards. It feels so good that it’s threatening to white his brain, especially as Tim rubs up slowly. The dry friction is like a burn against his nerves. Jason’s toes curl as he heaves in big gulping breaths. After a stroke, Tim lets go and Jason sobs. “Master, please.”

 

“You beg so prettily.” Unerringly, Tim increases the pressure on the second stroke, toying with Jason. Jason’s muscles strain, involuntary twitches wrung out of him as Tim circles the tip of his cock with a toe. “I’ll wear those heels you like when we do this again. What did you call them again?” 

 

“Master-”

 

“Ah yes, fuck me heels.” Tim exerts enough force that it begins to border on pain, before going back to the barely glancing touches of before that has Jason reduced to incoherent begging. Occasionally, he snaps the edge of the underwear, the loud sound echoing. "First, I’ll spoil this lovely cock with the heel, let you flirt with the danger, before I’ll fuck you with nothing but the shoes on. Maybe in front of the mirror so that you can watch my legs if you’re good.”

 

“I’ll be good Master-”

 

“I know. You’re doing so well for me.” Tim smiles, the little edges of his mouth curling in a cheshire manner. Jason chokes a bit, trembling under the weight of Tim’s pleasure. His legs have gone weak and numb and he’s holding himself up only through his forearms and what feels like every brain cells left in his brain. “Do you want to come?”

 

“Yes, please, Master.”

 

Tim removes his foot from Jason’s body and holds his face in his hands. Leans in close enough that their foreheads are almost touching, and locking his gaze with Jason’s, his breath hot against Jason’s mouth. “Jason,  _come_.”

 

Jason obeys.

 

The release of tension is forceful. Sears through him, in a rush, and he’s shaking all over at the relief, but-

 

He doesn’t look away. Because this too is an offering, this and the way his mind has emptied, nothing but a blank slate that is a reflection of Tim’s pleasure with him. This is what will burn itself into his very being, the dilation of Tim’s eyes, the eclipse of his pupil swallowing up all of that twilight gold. 

 

Jason’s not sure what happened between one moment to the next, because when he blinks, Tim’s perched on top of his body in a comforting weight and his arms are wrapped tight enough that it must be hard for Tim to breathe. 

 

Tim looks up at him, assessing with an unsure curve to his mouth, before he offers a shy smile. “Jay, you with me?”

 

Jason nods wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak when it feels like all he will do is continue on and wax lyrical about Tim in a nonsensical fashion. Tim drops a quick kiss on Jason’s jaw, before he wriggles out of Jason’s arms, just enough to reach onto the table for a glass of water. 

 

“Here, finish half of it.” He says, before chewing on his lower lip nervously as he watches Jason. Jason drains the entire glass instead, and then rewraps his arms around Tim, squeezing him. Tim laughs, a bright joyous sound and squeezes back. “It was okay then?”

 

“It was perfect.” Jason returns, peppering kisses all over Tim’s face. “You’re perfect.” 

 

Cheeks flushed red, Tim stares solemnly at Jason, a ghost of uncertainty still present in the way he traces the contours of Jason’s face. “Really?”  

 

“Really.” Jason feels weightless, the noise in his mind reduced in a floating sky of endorphins, and the beauty of Tim’s hesitant happiness akin to the gentle moon wrapped in brown paper.

 

“Sap,” Tim teases, and Jason realises that he spoke out loud. 

 

“You’re the one that wooed me with poetry first.” Jason replies, remembering how he’d dropped his bag on the floor when he realised what he was looking at wasn’t an equation but poetry instead. Read it aloud to himself in the silence of Tim’s apartment and heard only Tim’s voice murmuring it in his ear.  _I bring you with reverent hands:_ _The books for my numberless dreams._  Looking at him, this way, the aristocratic features of his face, transformed in a sort of boyish wonder-

 

It makes Jason’s heart ache, somewhat fierce and undone. He pulls Tim forward and presses their foreheads together.

 

Tim’s smile promises light, like the careful undressing of love.


	3. to start infinity again

 

Before Tim, the best day of his life was when he became Robin. 

Before Tim, his favourite moment was - 

He can’t remember it, had it taken from him and then, abandoned in anger and hurt, so it must have been about Bruce. He misses it, the way one would a missing tooth, forgetting its absence until he presses a tongue to its ache. 

But after Tim, he has too many best days, too many favourite moments. The first time Tim asked him on a date, the first time Tim slow danced with him to an obnoxious pop song, the first time Tim kissed him, the first time Tim asked him to stay the night, the first time he asked Tim to stay the night, the first time they scened, the first time Tim collared him-

He keeps them all with him, collects them in greed, and in disbelief. It feels a lot like allowing himself to be happy.

After Tim, he has too many best days.

But he thinks the first time Tim used his safe word comes pretty damn close.

* * *

 

Tim is on top of him. 

Blindfolded and restrained, Jason can’t see him as Tim builds up a steady rhythm riding him, squeezing him with the wet heat of his. 

Rocking on Jason to a slow and steady beat, taking what he wanted with.  Their heights are too different for kissing. Instead, Tim’s all braced on Jason’s legs. Fingers digging in tight enough to bruise despite his leisurely pace, just the way he knows how Tim likes it, all deep grinds. 

Jason’s panting like a dog, his chest heaving with sweat dripping into his blindfold, struggling with the need to come maybe an hour ago. 

_“You can choose a cock ring. But, my little jaybird, if you manage to hold on, until I give you permission…” Tim had kissed up Jason’s throat, stroking at the veins there lovingly. “I might give you a reward.”_

Now he’s half wishing that he took the cock ring instead, but he’ll be good, he’ll be so good for his master. 

All his muscles are trembling with the sheer effort of holding back. Rather than fearing punishment, Jason fears disappointing more. When he falters, Tim makes a clicking sound with his tongue and tugs on the chain in warning, restricting Jason’s breathing for a single exhilarating moment. 

“Tell me how much you like it, my pet.” Tim says, just the slightest strain to his lovely voice. 

Jason tries to find his own, dragging it out from the animal-like noises he’s been choking back. “I like it a lot Master.” 

“Mmn.” There’s a soft wet touch on the inside of his thigh - Tim is kissing his thigh. The pressure on his cock eases, and Jason whimpers, but not for long, because Jason’s mouth is being kissed -

Tim is kissing him, close mouthed and with a curve of a smile and -

Pablo Neruda wrote about this, and holding the keys in a hand, to a future of joy and a wretched fate-

“I love you.” Jason says.

He feels Tim freeze in his arms, his chest heaving as though he has been hit.

“ _Cordite._ ” Tim says.

Jason chokes, jerking out of the safe cloud that Tim had created for him. 

There’s a ringing throb between his ears that promises a massive migraine. Breaking out of the knots and pulling the blindfold and collar off, the impending feeling of sub drop fuels the hurt and rage churning in his belly. He feels like as though he’s about to vomit any moment. “What did I-“

Tim is completely frozen, his body shaking on top of Jason. 

He looks absolutely horrified. 

Jason remembers how it felt just before Joker had hit him with a crowbar, the overwhelming fear that choked all his senses and froze his limbs and even that didn’t hurt as much as this sunder-

“I’m sorry,” Tim sobs, a hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry Jason, I’m sorry-“

“Hey.” Jason grabs Tim, stopping him from digging into the reddening nail tracks on his arms. “Hey, what’s going on—“

“I forced it out of you.” Tim confesses, throwing his arms around Jason and hiding his face into Jason’s neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forced you to that step, I took advantage of you-“

“Whoah, slow down. What’s going on?” Jason grits out, about to panic himself and suppressing it with the sheer need to focus on Tim.

“You said I love you.” Tim hiccups. “I took advantage of your subspace and you said it-“

Oh. 

 

_To start infinity again and never to stop -_

 

“I..” Jason feels completely helpless, especially with how Tim’s making a single-minded effort to meld their skin together. “I… Did you not know?” _Did I not make you feel loved? Did I not show you?_

“No, no, no,” Tim’s urgent hands presses at Jason’s face, and he pulls himself back to watch him with a crumpled mouth, a frown in his lovely brow. “Oh Jason, of course I knew. I ran probit and other regression models analysing your actions-”

 

What.

 

“And there was a eighty six percent likelihood that you must care for me but-“

 

“Timbers, slow down-”

 

Tim makes a visible effort to even his impending hyperventilation, face already red with his efforts, his chest heaving. “I shouldn’t have- Sorry, I’m so sorry-”

 

“Tim.” Jason interrupts, catches his hands and pulls Tim close. Tim’s dangerously close to having a panic attack, so Jason takes an exaggerated inhale to remind Tim about the necessity of breathing.  “Breathe with me.” 

 

It’s their thing - Jason listens to heartbeats, Tim counts breathing. 

 

They have spent bad days like this, entwined and pressed close like frightened children rather than lovers. Sorrow has carved them, loss defined them, and that leaves an inedible mark, no matter how many happy days they may have. Jason likes to tap out the rhythm of Tim’s heart against his own skin, the sound that anchors him as Gotham passes them by, loud and alive around his ears, until he remembers where he is and who is with him. Tim prefers to seek out Jason’s breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, even as his own is wrecked with choked sounds, jerking violently in a terrifying concave curve. 

 

A minefield, Jason once said as they stared at each other, dark-eyed and exhausted over the coffee table, and Tim had laughed as they dispensed each other’s medicine, mockingly raising small containers of pills to each other.

 

Slowly but surely, Tim’s diaphragm stops threatening to heave. 

 

If Gibran was right, both of them must be able to contain a fuckton of joy. 

 

For every bad day, they have good days too. Days where Damian offers halting stories about his mother. Days where Dick performs on the trapeze to his captive audience. Days where Tim talks about the faraway lands his parents have been to. Days where Jason sings songs Catherine loved. 

 

They rise. 

 

They continue.

 

“Timothy Jackson,” Jason clears his throat, wishes that he could fall back on literary quotes, but they all pale in unworthiness, are all inadequate to express the depths of his ardent affection, the burgeoning ache that threatens to undo him every time Tim smiles. “I…” 

 

He can offer nothing. Nothing but himself. Smiling wryly,  he cups Tim’s face, directing his stunned gaze to him.

 

“I love you.” 

 

 Tim gasps, a wet sound, slightly choked. 

  

“Fuck, I just love you Timbers. I, I thought you knew.” 

 

“I know.” Tim says, shuddering and pressing a kiss to Jason’s palm. “I always knew. There was all the evidence I needed, but, hearing you say it because you were forced-“

 

“You didn’t force me.” Jason says, fiercely, then quietly. “I am not ashamed of it. I didn’t say it, because I didn’t know how to say it, didn’t want to shame what we had because my words were inadequate and clumsy. When you have me in subspace, I feel safe and I don’t… ” Jason shrugs, still smiling self consciously. “I don’t think that much.” 

 

“How can you ever be inadequate, Jay,” Tim says, and his voice is still wet, but there it is. The cautious joy Tim always carries, like the gentle curve alongside a bird’s wing, innocuous but capable of taking flight. “You have always been… You have always inspired me to be better.”

 

They kiss, soft and slick.

 

“I love you too, Jason.” Tim murmurs, in the bare sliver of space between them. “I love you so much. For the longest time.” Laughing, Tim presses their noses together and offers another confession. “First as the Robin I wanted to be. Then… Ever since I woke up, and there was the scent of cordite and gun oil and I realised you were there. I knew then that there was no one else I might have wanted.”

 

Before Jason had even considered Tim beyond casual interest-

 

Before Tim went off and fucking died before Jason could do anything-

 

“Jason, stay with me.” Tim says, his touch grounding where he curls it around the scar of Jason’s neck. 

 

“I’m here.” Jason repeats. Trying to brush away the jolt of fear that he might have missed this, Jason reaches for Tim’s face.

 

“Then, you…” Tim continues, sighing as Jason brushes his hair out of his face. “I had a plan you know, to impress you. For you to notice me, for us to be friends, to see me as someone beyond just your replacement, but before I could set that in motion, you were there, breaking into my apartment and eating my breakfasts-”

 

“You were the one that invited me-“ Because Jason had felt it, the potential like a charged wire and he thought he lost it, and when Tim returned, he grabbed at it, desperate enough to dismiss any potential shock-

 

“I did, didn’t I,” Murmuring, Tim soothes the mark along Jason’s neck with a calloused thumb. “Best decision ever.” 

 

“My cleverest red robin.”

 

“Even though I have controlled for everything, calculated the odds, I never thought then that one day you might love me too ” Tim continues on, taking Jason’s hand in his and holding it to his mouth in a kiss. “And now, despite everything, you’re here and we’re here and-… “

 

He pauses, and just stares at Jason with those drowning blue-gold eyes, and smiles Jason’s smile. The one kept secret for him, and him alone, crinkling the sides of his eyes. 

 

“Yeah,” Jason says. A whole fuckton of joy indeed. That is what it feels like when he’s with Tim, that all of the spaces that have been hollowed by knives, empty cavities of raw flesh and blood, all of that have been filled up out of sheer happiness, with some sort of bright blinding light. 

 

The first time he felt this buoyant he thought he was hit with some sort of toxin, ran bloodwork after bloodwork because it felt so strange and so new that the negative results felt like a lie. Tim had watched him then, at first exasperated but soon he turned fond, and indulgent, and curled up on Jason’s lap until he fell asleep.

 

 “I’m here. We’re here.” 

 

They pause for a moment, just smiling like fools at each other, holding hands.

 

“How do you feel?” Tim asks, quietly. He reaches behind Jason’s neck, squeezing at the tight muscles he finds there. Jason groans. “You’ll probably drop in another half an hour.”

 

“Mmn.” Jason luxuriates in Tim’s touch, his head lolling a little. They might not be continuing, but that doesn’t mean he can still indulge in Tim’s affections. “As long as you’re here, I’ll be fine. I won’t say no to a massage though.”

 

“You’re just spoiled now.” Tim laughs. “I’ll clean us both up when I can feel my legs again.”

 

How can Jason not kiss him again, not offer him the world?

 

“You’re not allowed to escape just yet Timmy,” Jason replies after, rolling Tim over and bracketing him with his arms. Tim goes easily, wrapping long legs around Jason to pull him closer.  “For now, let’s stay like this.” 

 

The explicit adoration on Tim’s face humbles him.

 

“I love you,” Jason offers again, shyly. There’s a bright sheen to Tim’s eyes. and he blinks hard before nodding. 

 

“I feel the same.”

 

“We are two big steaming buckets of awesomeness.” Jason declares, just to see Tim laugh. 

 

“Yes, we are.” Tim replies, before kissing him again, close-mouthed and with a curve of a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A full list of references, because Jason is a sappy poetic romantic and our lovely timbers knows how to get him all hot and heavy
> 
> Pride and Prejudice - Chapter 58
> 
> WB Yeats - A Poet to his Beloved  
> I bring you with reverent hands  
> The books of my numberless dreams
> 
> Valentine - Carol Ann Duffy  
> I give you an onion.  
> It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.  
> It promises light  
> like the careful undressing of love. 
> 
> On Joy and Sorrow - Kahlil Gibran  
> The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
> 
> Everything beautiful about this fic can be credited to  
> Sonnet XLIV - Pablo Neruda
> 
> Bluejays sing a whisper song that is used for courting.
> 
> Basically, this all begun in Issue 16 of Teen Titans where I was blessed where Tim identified Jason with the scent of cordite and then had this huge monologue about Jason being with him and my little-shriveled heart was SET ON FIRE


End file.
